Disappearing Trick
by Opal Irises
Summary: Her starvation for perfection was greater then her starvation for food. She was a human magic trick. She was a disappearing act. Marissa Cooper is a dissapearing act. Rated for Bulimia, adult themes. [Marissa centric]
1. Disappearing Act

**A/N – I don't know where this story's going, if it's a one-shot, or if maybe it could be continue. But a story focusing on bulimia and anorexia is something that I've been wanting to write for a long time, so I just started this. I've been reading lot's of stories dealing with bulimia, but they're always focused on Summer, so I made this one about Marissa. Not to mention, if you know me, I always write about Summer. So I felt like being different. This isn't as good as I'd like it to be, but I hope you guys like it. Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated.**

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She sunk onto her knees before her body could collapse anyway. The weight of her body was becoming too much to be held up on her legs, she knew that, that was why she was doing this now. She ignored the cold porcelain scraping against her skin as she slid across the tiles.

She sat, knees curled beneath her, elbow resting on the toilet seat while she tried to control her body, shaking with terror. She'd lost control that day. She's been going so well before…and then, then it all ended. She ate, she had to eat, she started eating and she couldn't stop.

She disgusted herself. Every time she put something in her mouth, every time she felt her stomach growl with hunger, she felt like screaming. She wasn't supposed to be hungry! She was supposed to be perfect, and perfect wasn't hungry!

There was only one way to make herself truly perfect.

She leant her head over the toilet seat, pulling back her long hair, wasting no time to shove two fingers down her throat. She felt herself gag, she felt her stomach heave slightly and she instantly pulled them back out. She felt her chest heave up and down, her breathing slow and laboured. Why couldn't she do it? Why couldn't she fucking do it? Was she scared? What was there to be scared of?

Fat! Fat, that's what she should have been scared of. Fat, covering her entire body, until it wasn't even her, until it had taken over her, lost herself.

Without hesitation, she shoved her fingers back down her throat, until she felt the contents of her full stomach travelling up her throat. She pulled her hand out of her mouth and waited as the food of the day tumbled from her mouth in the form of partly digested muck.

She could do better then that. She could do better then partly digested. She could get the food out before it even had a chance to settle into her stomach.

She shoved her fingers back into her mouth and remained as her body convulsed while vomit slid from her mouth, until her throat was stretched and tight and her eyes were watering. She threw up until there was nothing left, her mouth was empty and all that remained was the bitter aftertaste, reminding her exactly what she had done to herself.

She knew exactly what she had done. She had cleansed her body, and she was slowly  
becoming perfect.

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No breakfast.

A litre of water for morning tea.

For lunch she could branch out, chewing on an apple before washing it down with another litre of water.

Basically, her whole diet now consisted of water. But then again, there were her binges. The ones she couldn't control. It was like she blacked out almost; and when she woke up, her stomach felt full, she felt content, an unfamiliar, terrifying feeling to her. She wasn't supposed to feel full, she wasn't supposed to feel content. She was supposed to feel empty, empty until it no longer hurt, empty until the piercing pain became simply numb, and there was no longer anything wrong with doing it.

Binges could be controlled easily.

With a lock of her hair falling into her watering eyes, she wiped the corner of her mouth, and rested her elbow on the edge of the toilet rim, before reaching up to flush it. She watched as her latest binge swirled in the dirty water before finally disappearing in a churning whirlpool, disappearing, forgotten, no more traces of her dirty habit left. She was empty once again, how it was supposed to be.

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She was doing it. Finally, slowly, painfully, but her hard work was beginning to show.

She stood, naked in front of her full-length mirror, casting her crystal blue, scrutinizing eyes over her body. She took careful note of her visible collarbone, her stomach so flat that it would almost possible to see her ribs, protruding through the thin layer of skin still remaining.

She was happy with herself for a full minute.

Then she caught sight of it. The imperfect flaws that still clung to her body. The way the fat on her upper arms moved – almost _jiggled – _when she moved. The way her face was still round and full, the way her cheeks were still visible. There was too much fat on her face, she thought, frowning as she moved closer to examine her face. She raised her finger gingerly to touch her cheek – and recoiled immediately and the pudginess.

That'd take about 3 sessions to get rid of.

It was all playing a game. That's all it was. A little game she played with herself, with her mind. She was disappearing, diminishing, slowly. Before their eyes, before her own eyes, she was wasting away, she was slipping through death's fingers, held back only by her own need for perfection.

Her starvation for perfection was greater then her starvation for food.

She was a human magic trick. She was a disappearing act.

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God, why was nothing coming up? It had been another binge day, another bad day, and as she sat in front of the toilet, repeatedly cramming her fingers down her throat, nothing was coming up.

Fuck, no, there's gotta be something, she thought desperately. Her full stomach reminded her nauseatingly of all the food that must be there, slowly digesting. The thought made her sick, the thought of it, moving around in there, digesting. She needed to get it out of her, before it became fully digested and travelled over her body, spreading to her thighs, her hips, her stomach.

In desperation, she grabbed her toothbrush, and without a second thought, shoved it so far down her throat that she let out a strangled yelp in pain, throwing the thin object to the side as she bent over the toilet, ignoring the tears that sprung to her bright blue eyes. She retched, and waited for her binge to fall from her mouth. Instead, she spat up blood.

She looked at it in desperation. No. No, not blood. Blood wasn't good. She didn't need blood. She needed food.

Once more, she thrust her fist wholly into her mouth, pulling it out just as the bile made it's way up her throat. It hit the inside of the toilet bowel, but she wasn't content, she wasn't empty. Her throat burnt, and she still felt full. She glanced into the toilet bowel, and saw she had only vomited bile. Acid bile.

She collapsed onto the cold, tile floors in a convulsing heap, waiting for her tears to stop. They didn't stop. She curled herself into a ball, tucking her head into her knees and wrapping her arms around her tiny, frail body.

Marissa Cooper was a human disappearing trick. And she was disappearing before her own eyes.

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**A/N – I'm kind of nervous. That's my first kind of thing I've written like that. How was it? Reviews are nice; thanks.**


	2. Practice Makes Perfect

**A/N – Okay, thank you for all the positive feedback. I have decided to continue this one, so keep reviewing please.**

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"So, Coop, are you just going to make me eat all of this by myself?"

Summer smiled as she shoved more fries into her mouth. Marissa forced herself not to wince as the grease from the fries glistened in the afternoon sunlight before disappearing into Summers mouth. Roughly, she calculated how many calories would be in the packet of large McDonalds fries that sat in front of Summer. It was another automatic habit that came with throwing up everything she ate. Before she ate – that was, when she ate – she calculated. How many calories were in what she was eating, the fat content, the sugar level, how long it would take to reach her stomach, turn into solid fat.

That determined how hard she stuck her fingers down her throat, how many times she threw up.

She smiled back at her friend, and shook her head.

Summer's smile faded, and she stared at her friend thoughtfully, chewing the food in her mouth slowly. Marissa cringed at the smudged grease on the edge of Summer's mouth. So much fat.

"You know, Coop…" said Summer slowly, swallowing what was left in her mouth. Marissa watched as her throat visibly pushed the processed food down, and felt her own stomach churn. Summer paused while she reached for her Coke, taking a gulp to wash down so much saturated fat that she had just poured into herself. "…You're looking kinda skinny lately."

Marissa was quick to scoff this idea, while she played with the straw of her own drink – Diet Coke, of course. She smiled, rolling her eyes for extra measure. "Yeah, as if, Sum. I just had a big breakfast."

Summer surveyed her friend, and her skinny exterior with careful eyes. Eventually, she shrugged, and returned to her food, while Marissa's stomach was inwardly churning.

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_You're a fucking cow._

That was what the voice in her head told her. That was what that low, razorblade-plated voice told her, whenever she caught a glance of herself in the mirror.

She was shopping with Summer, picking out clothes for the beach party that weekend, when she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirrors. It was unplanned, it was unexpected.

She caught one sight of herself, side on. The bumps on the front of her chest.

_They shouldn't be there._

The curving of her lower body. She wasn't supposed to be curved. She was supposed to be flat.

She dropped the pleated skirt she had been holding, and quickly dropped to the ground on her hands and knees to pick it up, desperate to escape from the mirror, pushing her own disgusting, fat image back at her, desperate to escape the razor-edged voice. Neither left her; the images remained, her imperfect body, branded onto her mind like hot coals, the voice; replaying in her head like a broken DVD.

_You cow. You fat pig. You're not trying hard enough. Harder! Harder!_

"Coop? You okay?" asked Summer, looking at her friend from behind her own reflection in the mirror, where she was holding up a new mini-dress to her own body.

"Uh…" replied Marissa shakily. "No, actually, no. I'm feeling kind of sick. Can we just go?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Said Summer, replacing the dress and lending her hand to help Marissa from the ground. "You look kinda green. You sure you're okay?"

Marissa's stomach was heaving. "I think I'm gunna be sick.

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Two fingers.

Gag.

_Two fingers, not enough, you idiot._

Three fingers.

Gag.

_Push harder, you idiot! Harder! It has to hurt! You have to feel pain! You're nothing without pain, get it, **nothing!**_

She pushes harder.

And she's empty once more. She's cleansed, so why does she still feel dirty inside?

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Once more, she stands naked in front of her full-length mirror. It's okay now, she's expecting it. She's expecting the view of her body, she's expecting the voice to come creeping back into her head.

_It's not looking good. You're still not trying hard enough. It doesn't hurt, does it? It has to hurt! You have to feel pain. Beauty is nothing without pain._

She's shivering. She watches as her lips turn slowly blue. It's warm outside, but she's freezing in her own skin. She slowly puts her clothes back on, trying her hardest to ignore the voice that pounds into her head. She's covered her flawed body in baggy clothes, sweatpants and huge jumpers. She's still freezing. Quietly, she crosses to the bathroom, drops to her knees in front of the toilet, and sticks her fingers down her throat until she gags.

_It's hurting now. Good._

The voice whispers into her ear as her stomach twists itself into knots, as she wheezes and cries, trying to purify herself. She's spitting out blood again, but her eyes are closed, blocked by the veil of tears, and she can't see.

With her head still bowed over the bowl, clutching to the sides as her messy hair falls into her face, she reminds herself.

_She's a disappearing act. She's a magic trick, and that's all she is. Magic takes practice. This is practice. _

_Practice makes perfect._

She'll be perfect. Soon enough.

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**Review please.**


	3. I'm not sick

**A/N – Thank you everyone for the beautiful reviews! And just because people have been asking, there's something to look forward to in the next chapter…Ryan. Please read and review :)**

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"Coop?" Summer rapping knuckle on the wood was barely heard through the retches that escaped Marissa's mouth. "Want me to come in?"

_Why is she here? How did she get in? Why can't she just leave her…_

"I'm…" she started, but collapsed in another fit of retches, that this time came voluntarily, without prompting from her fist. Despite the burning acid that flamed in her throat and stomach, she was proud that she had managed to get to the point where she didn't need to shove her whole fist down her mouth.

"I'm coming in," interrupted Summer, pushing the door that Marissa had forgotten to lock. "Coop! Sweetie…" Summer dropped to her knees next to her best friend, her head resting on the porcelain bowel. "Honey, you look sick."

"I'm not…" she started to say, in denial of her problem. Then she twisted the meaning of the words around. "Sick" didn't necessarily have to mean "sick". "Sick" could just be an excuse for what she was doing to herself.

Because she wasn't sick.

"Actually," she said. "I think I am sick."

She wasn't sick.

"You're so green!" exclaimed Summer. She extended to her hand to prop up Marissa's chin, staring at her in better light. "Come on sweetie, you're going to bed." She helped Marissa up, clutching her arm tightly. Summer's brow creased as she noticed how her hand almost slipped from Marissa's tiny wrist. She said nothing, and continued to lead Marissa to bed. "Get some more comfortable clothes on." She said. She let go of Marissa and let her walk to her wardrobe. Her steps were small and liquid smooth; she walked like a ghost. Summer couldn't help thinking how much she looked like one too.

She watched in silence as Marissa unbuckled her jeans and slid them down the thighs. Summer was shocked at how easily the clothes slid down her limbs, the baggy fabric falling easily from around her almost invisible legs. She stayed silent.

Marissa, having pulled a pair of large sweatpants up her legs, raised her arms to remove her top. Summer, although she hid it, inwardly gasped as her friend revealed herself. Her ribcages stuck out from behind her pasty looking skin, hollow cages sticking between the protruding bones. She remained quiet, staring in shock. Marissa's eyes diverted to her friend, and she instantly felt ashamed at the way Summer was looking at her.

_She's disgusted at how fat I am. She can see all my flaws. She'll pretend she doesn't notice, that I'm still beautiful, but really, she's appalled and disgusted at the way fat clutches onto my bones._

She covered herself in a sweatshirt and walked silently over to the bed, her head down turned as she tried to avoid Summer's searing eyes. She pulled the blankets self consciously up to surround herself, burying her imperfections in a layer of warmth. She felt the bed move as Summer sat down next to her, but she still didn't look up to meet the chocolate eyes that stared at her.

"Coop?" Summer's soft voice reached out to her ears, and her soft touch reached out to her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

_I'm not sick, that's for sure._

"I think I'm just sick. I'm…going to go to sleep now."

"Okay." Summer said softly. She reached over to pull her friend into a hug, but her eyes widen as Marissa's skinny ribcages poke into her. "Love you, Coop."

_Well, that's a first._

Marissa lay her head down on the pillow and listened, as Summer's footsteps grew fainter against the wooden floorboards, eventually disappearing from the room. Marissa sighed. She felt her exhaled breath breezing around inside her chest, brushing against the thin layer of skin that separated her ribs from being exposed, the cold oxygen icy against her skin.

_I'm not sick._

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**A/N – Next chapter: The return of Ryan. Please review :)**


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